


Exposé

by Nicola Mody (Vilakins)



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Action/Adventure, Drama, Episode: s02e02 Shadow, Gen, Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-06
Updated: 2005-05-06
Packaged: 2017-10-05 15:30:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/43192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vilakins/pseuds/Nicola%20Mody
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The crew returns Bek to Space City and carries out a bit of investigative reporting.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exposé

  


"Approach completed." Jenna sat back in the pilot's chair and stretched briefly "Powering down."

Bek regarded the image of Space City on the view screen. "You know, I'm looking forward to this but I don't have a clue where to start."

"Oh, there'll be plenty of disaffected people who've lost family and friends to Shadow or the Terra Nostra." Blake remembered the enthusiasm of his early days in the Freedom Party and gnawed his fist, thinking of all the rebels he'd named under interrogation and how many they had betrayed in turn. He forced the familiar guilt back into its corner. "I'd advise you to use small cells with no contact with each other."

On the flight-deck couch beside him, Vila shuddered. "Sounds like several prisons I've known."

"This could help." Avon held up the ID of the guard he'd killed on Zondar. "Proof that the Shadow gardens were protected by the President's own personal security force."

"Know what?" Vila said thoughtfully. "I wouldn't mind betting the Chairman and old President Struik are the same person."

Jenna nodded at him. "You could be right."

"The Chairman?" Blake looked from one to the other.

"Head of the Terra Nostra," Vila leaned back, revelling in the chance to show off his knowledge. "Used to call him the boss of bosses back before they gave themselves airs."

Jenna grinned. "But now they like to say they're a business, though I doubt there's actually a board of directors for him to be chairman of."

"Hmm." Blake looked thoughtful. "If that's true and we could establish more of a link, perhaps even find some proof that could be made public—that would help Bek. And us."

"Largo talks to the Chairman," Bek said. "He boasted he had a direct link."

"Well, then. He might feel an urgent need to use it if someone tells him that the President's gardens have just been destroyed." Avon tossed the ID over to Blake. "And if that someone carried a tiny camera, Orac could slip a recording onto the main vidcasts."

"That's clever. But who'll..." Vila faltered at the speculative look on Blake's face. "Oh, no. Not me. I don't even look like a trooper."

"You're the only one Largo hasn't seen, Vila," Blake said.

"Eh? What about Cally?"

"The guard was called Tomas Mazey."

"I don't have a uniform!"

"Oh, I think our guard will visit Space City incognito, don't you? He wouldn't want to give the game away after all. Simple dark-coloured clothes should do it. And besides," Blake clapped Vila on the shoulder, "you're our resident expert on the Terra Nostra."

"Yes, and I know just how dangerous they are! You're not going to send me in there alone!"

"You'll have a bracelet and I won't be far away."

"Besides," Cally said from her station, "a fluffy-cheeked amateur like Blake will need the experience of a professional like you."

"Fluffy-cheeked?" Blake raised his eyebrows.

Vila reddened. "Look, I only meant it relatively speaking. I mean, you being an Alpha and all."

"And one with such a sheltered up-bringing too," Cally said, her chin on her hand and a look of detached interest on her face.

"Really? Is that what you think, Vila?"

"Um, I'll be off to see what they've got in the clothes room. Basic black, you said? I'll be amazed if I can find anything without studs." Vila left hurriedly.

* * *

  
Jenna frowned at Blake. "Are you sure?"

"Oh, I doubt he'll sneak off on a binge this time. He wouldn't dare. Besides, we'll be keeping an eye on him. Almost literally."

"I didn't mean that. Largo's a dangerous man, Blake."

"And Vila's managed to survive in a dangerous profession."

Jenna stood up. "I'm going with you."

Blake looked surprised. "You're that worried about Vila?"

"No. You."

Blake laughed. "You think I'm an amateur too?"

"You are in these matters."

"I know how to look after myself."

Jenna set her jaw. "All the same."

Gan frowned. "You two don't seem to be very worried about Vila."

"That's not true, Gan," Blake said quietly. "I'll get him back safely."

Vila appeared at the top of the flight-deck stairs, wearing black leather trousers and boots, a black high-collared shirt, and a worried expression. "How's this? Think I look distinguished?"

"As long as you don't change the prefix to 'ex.'" Avon gave Vila a rare and brilliant smile.

Vila looked even more unnerved. "Didn't know you cared."

"I don't. But I'd rather not lose this device." Avon approached Vila with a pair of tweezers and an intent expression. "Hold still while I attach it to your collar. There."

"You'll hear everything through that?"

"And see it as well. Just don't put your hands in front of it. We'll be recording everything, so face Largo and speak clearly." Avon slapped Vila's curious hand down. "Don't touch it, you fool." He bit his lip and scowled at Blake. "You'd better be careful."

"And you'd better be alert. We may need a quick pickup."

Avon gave him a narrow look. "I'll be at the teleport controls monitoring the recording. I'll be ready."

"Good." Blake handed the ID tag to Vila. "Then let's go."

* * *

  
"This is where we say goodbye, Bek." Blake shook hands. "And good luck."

"You too, Blake." Bek slipped into the crowd.

They were in the commercial sector, a crowded and noisy place where they were unlikely to be noticed. Jenna watched Bek weave his way out of sight and shook her head. "I wouldn't expect too much from him if I were you."

"Oh, don't be so cynical. He'll want to avenge his family, and public opinion will be swing very strongly in our favour if our little ploy works. Speaking of which," Blake paused and looked around, "where's Vila?"

"Just behind you," Vila said. "Want a tomato?" He briefly juggled five glossy red ones. "They're from Zephron. Thought Gan'd like a bit of home."

Blake frowned suspiciously. "Did you pay for those?"

"Course I did!" Vila looked hurt as he slipped them into his pockets. "That's the first thing Gan'd ask. You think I'm stupid? 'Sides, those stall owners can't afford people nicking stuff, you know."

Blake opened his mouth to ask where Vila had got the local money in that case, and decided he'd rather not know. "Are you ready?"

"Not really, but then again, I never am."

"Vila." Blake closed his eyes briefly. "Have you got your story straight?"

"Oh, yes, no problems." Vila pulled a face. "If it wasn't the Terra Nostra and seeing what they did back home, I'd feel a bit ashamed, you know. I've never been a snitch."

Jenna grinned. "Think of yourself as an investigative reporter."

"Oh, thanks. It'll be politics next."

Blake laughed despite himself and raised his datapad which showed a tiny image of himself and Jenna being transmitted from the bug on Vila's collar. "All right, off you go. We'll be watching everything."

Vila smiled weakly. "Is that supposed to be reassuring or a warning?"

"Both."

* * *

  
Vila regarded the beefy man in Largo's outer room with trepidation. The fellow sat behind a polished metal desk devoid of everything but a wrapped sandwich. He had the typical pallor and bluish hair of the sector, but he was built like a brick cell-block. Just act arrogant, Blake and Jenna had said. Easy enough for them, wasn't it? Alphas grow up knowing how. All right, what would Avon say? He cleared his throat. "I'm here to see Largo. Do let him know."

"You're out of luck, mate."

"Really? Look, he'll want to see me, so better not keep him waiting."

"Largo's turned his toes up. Ate something that disagreed with him. It's Alto now and I'm his enforcer." The man bared unnervingly large and yellow teeth. "Promotions all round." He folded his arms and looked expectantly at Vila.

"Well then, I need to see Alto."

"Oh, yeah? And who might you be when you're at home?"

Vila flipped the Federation guard's onto the table. "Trooper Tomas Mazey, Special Presidential Security Detachment, wherever I am: here or on Zondar." He raised an eyebrow; well, both of them, really but the intent was there. "You _have_ heard of Zondar?"

"Zondar?" The enforcer succeeded in looking furtive despite not being built for it. "'Hang on." He lifted a communicator and mumbled into it. "Right. Alto will see you now." He got to his feet and lumbered over to the inner door. "After you."

 

"He's doing well," Blake said. He and Jenna were sitting in a small alcove at a coffee bar, their heads together over Blake's datapad.

"He's lucky he hasn't been searched. They'd find that teleport bracelet on his ankle easily enough."

"I don't suppose the new man wants to offend his boss."

"No." Jenna said thoughtfully. "Respect is everything in that society. And it _is_ one, Blake, with its own rules and customs." She leaned towards the screen. "Oh, no!"

"What is it?"

"We've met him—Alto. He's Largo's enforcer. He's a dangerous man. In fact I wouldn't mind betting he took Largo out."

"Took out? Ah." Blake gnawed a knuckle, guilty at the risk he was putting one of his people in. "I hope Vila's careful."

Jenna smiled. "Vila's always careful."

 

Vila fought down his nervousness; Alto was a slender, elegantly-dressed man, but he had the cold eyes Vila had seen before on killers. "You in charge here, then?"

"That's right." Alto tapped the ID before pushing it away. "And you're one of the Chairman's people."

"The President's, yes."

"What are you doing here?"

"Came to tell you what happened. Rebels attacked Zondar and burned the Shadow gardens."

Alto narrowed his eyes. "Destroyed?"

"That's right."

"And you came here to tell me this."

Vila hoped Alto didn't believe in shooting the messenger. "Well, my commander said you'd have to know and we're not supposed to contact the Space City operation directly." Vila shrugged. "Don't worry, I'm in civvies."

"Mm." Alto pressed a comms switch.

A man appeared on the screen, peering into a tank with a spider in it. Probably something poisonous. Vila stepped closer: was it Struik? Hard to know, what with no one knowing what the top people looked like to protect them. The only permitted image of Struik was the official one of a much younger man with a smooth, bland face.

The Chairman crooned at his pet and pursed his lips in a grotesque kiss. "What is it, Alto? I'm busy."

"Chairman, one of your men just turned up here. He says the Shadow gardens have been destroyed."

"Yes, I know. I sent a unit of pursuit ships in but they were too late."

 

"Oh, _yes_!" Blake whispered. "That's good!" He was tempted to pull Vila out now, but he wanted Struik's name mentioned. "Come on, Vila."

 

The Chairman looked up suddenly. "One of my men? Is that him there?"

Vila stepped forward, came to attention, and executed what he hoped was a smart salute. "President Struik, _sir!_ Trooper Mazey at your service."

"I gave no orders like that. Who sent you to Space City and how?"

"Uh—" Vila groped for a common name in the hopes he'd score a hit, "—it was Kline, sir. And I came on the Shadow transport."

"There wasn't one due." The Chairman's face hardened. "He's an impostor, Alto. Kill him."

Several things happened at once. The screen went black, Alto drew a gun and fired, Vila fell to the floor, and the enforcer flattened himself against the wall as the shot just missed him. "Here. Watch it, Alto."

 

Blake and Jenna stared in horror as the transmitted picture jerked, went dark, then wobbled and showed a close-up of Vila's hand, dripping red, accompanied by his shocked voice: "Oh, no!"

"TELE—"

 

"—PORT!" shouted Blake, but Avon had reacted almost as fast and he was already in the teleport bay with Jenna beside him and Vila at his feet. Vila was sitting up, one hand clutched to a spreading dark patch on his side and the other held up in front of his face in a helpless attempt to prevent another shot. "Vila!" Blake knelt beside him, stricken with guilt. "I'm sorry, Vila. Don't move. We'll get you to the surgical unit, you'll be all right."

"Oh." Vila blinked at him. "I _am_ all right, Blake." He bit his lip, looking guilty. "It's just that I landed on Gan's tomatoes when I hit the floor."

Jenna laughed. "That's what's on your hand? You little—"

"Yeah, I think they were a bit ripe." Vila wiped his hand on his tunic and looked at Blake sheepishly. "Sorry."

Blake grasped Vila's shoulders, his face working, then suddenly pulled him into a tight embrace. "I'm just glad you're all right," he said gruffly.

Vila stiffened, then returned the hug delightedly. "Think you squashed the last of them there."

* * *

  
Vila entered with a plate held high. "Here you are, Gan." He handed it to his friend with a flourish. "It's the only one that survived the massacre, but it's all the way from Zephron."

Gan smiled at the lone tomato, presented with a crisp slice of toast and a pepper grinder. "Thanks. Vila. It's a nice thought." He popped the tomato into his mouth whole and crunched down on it, his eyes closed in pleasure.

Vila grinned happily

Blake looked round at them from the couch. "Come on, you two. One of the local vidcasters is showing it again and I'd like to hear what they have to say."

"Pity I'm not really in it," Vila said, throwing himself onto the couch between Blake and Jenna. "I could've been a star!"

Avon looked down his nose. "If you ever find yourself on stage, there will doubtless be a few more tomatoes in the picture."

"He did all right," Blake said.

Vila gave Avon a smug smile. Good old Blake. Made it all worthwhile, a bit of approval. He watched the brief clip, wincing at the sight of his hand at the end. "Waste of good food, that," he said to Gan. "I'd've gone back for more if Blake had let me."

"More of what, though?" Blake held up a finger to forestall Vila's answer. "Quiet now, let's hear what they have to say."

The announcer—a pretty woman despite the pasty skin and blue hair, Vila thought, though she reminded him uncomfortably of Hanna—appeared on the screen, looking serious. "And there you have it: the mysterious recording which appeared on every major vidcaster's news earlier today. The Federation deny that the man shown is President Struik, but we have confirmed that the other two were indeed Gid Alto, reputed Terra Nostra captain, and his bodyguard Henk Vietch. Both were found dead shortly after this recording was first broadcast, shot in the back of the neck execution-style. The man identifying himself as Mazey is thought by some to be one of Blake's rebels, and by others to be an independent reporter. The Federation state that in either case the man lied about who he was which, in their opinion, calls everything he said into question."

"Hey!" Vila sat up straight. "That's hardly fair!"

"However everything else he said seems to be true."

"That's all right then." Vila subsided.

"The Federation do indeed have a well-guarded outpost on Zondar which they _claim_ is a research facility, and President Struik is known to have had an interest in spiders as a student. However, the official Federation response is that it is a complete, but clever, fabrication."

"Oh, wonderful."

"In the strangest twist so far though, the substance on the reporter's hand seems to be fruit juice, probably tomato." The announcer smiled for the first time. "So he may well be alive."

"Only just," said Vila. "That Alto was drawing a bead on me when I teleported."

"Ah. Pity," said Avon. "Then I was too quick."

Vila pretended to ignore him and thought of several things he could do with the tomato pulp. Then he screwed up his face. "So what've we achieved, Blake? They'll just keep denying it till they're blue in the face and we can't prove it was Struik since no one's seen a picture of him for years."

"True. However most of the non-Federated worlds believe it or have serious suspicions, which will affect their dealings with the Federation. Struik won't go immediately, but he'll be seen as a liability and an embarrassment. I guarantee we'll have a new president before the year's out."

"Yeah, someone just as bad, probably. They're all the same, politicians."

"Oh come on, Vila, have a little faith. There are some decent people in government like Le Grand. And cheer up—not everyone gets to bring down a President."

"No." Vila briefly considered having Struik's head stuffed and mounted on the flight-deck wall, then his attention was caught by Avon's boots in front of them. They no longer had Avon's feet in them. They were new ones; bit tight, were they? A little tomato pulp in them next time and Avon would think he had blisters. Vila grinned.

"There you are," Blake said fondly. "Always look on the bright side."

The end

  



End file.
